Branimir emerges from the Netherworld as a living legend and learns the Ash Tree is still in danger from the cursed dagger, kaelandur. An old friend compels Branimir to finish what they started at Melkorka. Once again, the former slave must keep kaelandur out of uncertain hands, while struggling to separate heroes from villains and friends from foes.
However, Robertson's writing, as noted in my review of Melkorka, is fantastic. His voice is solid and his take on the story, as written from the point of view of Branimir, continues to offer unique perspectives.
At the end of Melkorka, we see our heroes tragically separated from their world, and when Dyndaer begins, more than 1,000 years have passed by, and our heroes haven't aged a day, with Branimir now a seasoned warrior. There's something about him, something hardly mentioned but perceptible in the way the writer attends to this, which is brilliant, to say the least. This intangible actually caused me some anger at the character when he refused to act, especially when his friends were in danger. This made it all the more satisfying when he does finally take up arms again.
After pondering it a while, if I were to offer up any form of critique, it would be that while there were no obvious parts as in Melkorka that made think it didn't belong there, I actually felt as though there were too many questions left unanswered. As a fellow writer, I'll be the first to admit that striking that balance is probably one of the more difficult things to do. Where do we draw the line as to what is answered and what is left to the characters' secrets? How much should the reader know going into the next book?
I know that Maharia, the third installment of this amazing trilogy, is on its way, and I'm excited for it. I'm hoping my questions will be answered there. Until then, I will try to be patient. If you have been considering reading anything from this author, don't consider, just read and let him take you on a journey fraught with danger, despair, and once in a while, a bit of hope.
Other books in this genre:
A short story collection about Basement Man ; moody drunk, sometime rock climber, absurdist philosopher, raconteur of the ridiculous, rogue, and not-so-merry prankster from the North End of Yonkers (aka Junkies Paradise). An every-man for nobodies, he is ever adrift between the carrot of sobriety and the reality of carpe diem. Bowing only to the laws of Murphy, he can never decide whether the lucky ones are the survivors or those who died years ago.
From: Invitation to the Blues
"She's a moving violation
From her conk down to her shoes,
But it's just an invitation to the blues"
The sky was that super-3-D dark-bright ... looks like the whole fuckin scheme of things is gonna change...or like you're standin on another planet...And the clouds are churnin and curdled like lemon-flavored milk, their guts all twisted and seethin with Frankenstein lightning ... And you really feel like somethin's gonna happen ... dogs'll start talkin, the dead start walkin, and Christ, the least'll happen is some house'll come whippin the fuck outa Kansas and zap some old witch in striped socks.
But just when you figure the laws of physics are gonna be repealed, all it does is start fuckin rainin ... and you're left standin like a douchebag with nature washin the big ideas clean out your brain.
Opening my eyes, I was relieved to see that tonight’s dream was a romantic veranda overlooking a Hawaiian beach and the ocean, and I was curled up in an exquisitely comfortable chair. The salty smell of the surf was pleasant and candles stood everywhere, their flames dancing in the warm night. The stars and the moon were shining brightly, gracing the terrace with an iridescent glow as the breeze flitted softly over my skin, tugging at my buttery-smooth silver gown and my free-flowing hair.
With a thought, a small table appeared near me with a bottle of red wine and a crystal goblet. Sighing in happiness and relief, I poured a glass and sat back, fully intending to relax until something popped up in the corner of my eye.
Entering dreamland had always been a mostly pleasant experience for me, and was usually my escape from the world. Since my powers blossomed on my eighteenth birthday, I had been able to control my dreams except for one little thing…
“Ian!” I screeched at the tall, dark, devastatingly handsome and yet loathsome man who had plagued my dreams at least once a night for five years. My subconscious loved to terrorize me with dreams of him, and though I had often tried to change them, it hardly ever worked.
“Hello, Alexandra. Took you long enough.” A slow smile spread across his lips and I shivered. No one should ever look that good, especially not him.
“Fuck you!” I spat the words at him as I gulped the wine and placed a ring of candles around him with a flick of my wrist, their flames shooting up more than seven feet in the air, effectively imprisoning him. Goddess, it felt good to do that!
“Alexandra, stop being childish. We need to talk.” Ian’s stern tone almost made me obey him out of habit but instead I shook my head, even as his eyes flashed dangerously at me. He crossed his arms over his form-fitting black t-shirt, which hid a tightly muscled chest. I barely stopped myself from drooling. Each time he appeared, he looked even more delicious than I remembered.
“I don’t think so, Ian. This is not childish. What’s childish is my subconscious tormenting me with dreams of you, or you running away and leaving me hanging for five years - don’t you think?” I snapped at him.
Oh, great, I was taunting Dream Ian again. You’d think I’d learn, but I guess not.
The candles around him went out with a whoosh as he strode determinedly to my chair and picked me up, silencing my shrieks and protests with a kiss.
I whimpered against his mouth as his tongue invaded, seeking mine. I wrapped my arms tightly around him. This was the only benefit of having this asshole in my dreams: because he made me feel like no other could, even when we clashed. Although it was just a dream, I melted like butter when his hot flesh touched mine.
His sister is in the hands of the enemy.
The town where he lives claims that the woman he loves is dead.
The Sanguis clan leader has disappeared.
And Apollo is running out of time.
In a harrowing attempt to find the woman he loves, Apollo confronts his adversaries and the dark secrets of his birthplace. One clue leads to another until he runs into a dead end. As the clock to rescue his sister runs out of time, Apollo leads the remaining Sanguis clan to the werewolf compound in Spain. Once inside and behind enemy lines, he will come face to face with his most dangerous enemies, unravel family secrets and discover an heirloom with powers far stronger than he knew existed. As he leaves one life behind, he will discover another, where he will be forced to choose between good and evil, family and solitude.
Every night, Jade is rattled by a recurring dream—a dream that’s as real as the research institute where she lives. When flames fall from the sky and an alien ship crashes into Earth, Jade becomes government property and at the mercy of scientists. After all, she’s imprinted with an intelligent alien metal that could be the answer to all of Earth’s problems.
However, in the wrong hands, the metal implant could become the deadliest weapon known to humankind.
Kept underground for sixteen years, Jade fights to keep her sanity and understand the intelligent organism that is wrapped around her spine. When a new company takes over the science institute, Jade’s alien symbiont warns her of imminent danger.
Then Jade meets Aric, the lone survivor from the spaceship. They form an alliance that will change their personal destiny and they put a plan into motion that will alter the future of mankind.
Book One of THE IMPRINT TRILOGY.
I'm Dhellia Hunt, princess of the underworld. Daughter of Lucifer and Adana. This is my story.
In an attempt to balance her father’s unruly attitude “downstairs,” Dhellia steps forward to represent a soul at his trial by fire against Lucifer and his demons—a decision she trained long and hard to attempt on her own. But as good and evil get closer to a global confrontation, Dhellia owns her powers, hones her skills and puts herself in harm’s way in order to save those in the line of fire. What she discovers is that life isn’t always fair and some will stop at nothing to see her fail.
Dhellia is a funny, fresh and sassy, fast-paced series about a young woman whose birthright is princess of the underworld—she’s mad as Hell about it, and is determined to use her powers to beat her father at his own game!
Through the night, and early hours of the morning, Nalia finds herself engaged in a lucid dream. That she is knitting a tale in pink honey comb pattern. This tale describes the ominous conditions of her brother and many fateless mates fleeing the Lost Winds; a village they call home. There are dangers looming ahead. The people of Lost Winds are afraid of persecution and death. Nalia dreams about her own life too; what it could have been, but is not. Her mates are on a boat called the Blue Moon. On a raging sea they brave through treacherous passages, to seek a new land for asylum. Finally, they reach the shores of Draviland, whose citizens speak Kroll. But grave danger lurks here as well. Will there be peace after all? For these hapless travelers have scoured the surface of the planet in search of it. Nalia continues to dream of an ending in which an ultimate world is painted, almost a utopia for herself and her mates.
Set on a fantasy land, the narrative takes place entirely on one night. It has been written in a stream of consciousness style. A technique pioneered and used by many authors such as Dorothy Richardson, Virginia Woolf, William Faulkner and James Joyce.
The moisture in the air condensed into droplets, then began to whirl. It danced for me, like the water wanted nothing more than to bring joy to me.
I stared. It was me. The water had answered my call. I had asked its help and it had answered me happily, like an old friend.
“I am the Gray One,” I whispered, my mind and body in perfect accord with the earth.
How could I have forgotten something so wonderful? Water, air and stones were my friends. I had missed their company.
“You just don’t understand. But you soon will Jake. I’ll not return here until everyone you know and love is long in the ground. My work was almost done. Now I must hope that I have done enough.” Jake noticed a faint blue outline appear behind Smeets as the wind kicked up around him.
The trees whistled and strained as a gust whipped up along the hillside. To Jake, it felt like his ears had just popped as he saw the blue glow strengthen into the shape of a doorway. The big man put his cases on the floor, bowing his head and removing his dark glasses. He spoke as he looked at the ground, the wind blowing his coat around his long legs.
“Do you know why you’re stood here, Jake? This very minute?”
Suddenly unsure of himself, Jake hesitated. “No, why?” he shouted over the roaring wind.
“Because I wanted you to be. You are my gift to a friend. Now I must leave you.” He looked up at Jake, his red eyes penetrating the night. Jake’s mouth fell open as he swayed on his feet.
Smeets took two steps back, turning his head to the blackness behind him. “Enjoy him, Anya, for he is fresh and very healthy.” He walked backwards until he vanished from sight, the blackness swallowing him whole.
Jake took a step forward, dumbfounded. His mind a whirling maelstrom. He stopped in his tracks when another figure emerged from the void. He stared in horror at the figure, dressed in a dirty grey gown that fell almost to her white bony ankles, dark mottled blotches covering her bare arms. Her yellow eyes are searching out and finding Jake, who felt like the earth was tilting at a strange angle.
She smiled at the sight of him, her dirty canines filling her blackened mouth as she moved closer. He tried to move backwards, tripping on a fallen log and crashing into the crook of a small tree. She sensed an advantage and moved to within ten feet of Jake, edging closer to him with shuffling feet. He wanted to turn and flee, back to his car, back to the safety of his house where he could bar the doors from all this. He then remembered his friend who lay dead on his lounge floor.
Not even his house would keep him safe from this. He was brought back to reality as two hands seized the lapels of his coat. He looked into the eyes of the woman as they bored into his. The yellow light seemed to dance like firefly’s, slowly taking away his fears. He welcomed the inevitable. He could almost see himself floating in a red river as her face filled his vision. He was at peace as her hands yanked apart the material of his clothing, exposing the flesh underneath.
Two things happened at that moment.
Firstly, his ears were filled with the deafening sound of her screams. Second, his eyes were blinded by a flash of light from below as he felt the hold on him released. The woman staggered backwards, her hands in front of her face, trying to fend off the piercing light that threatened to engulf her. Jake tried to rub his eyes and blink away the fuzzy shapes that floated in his vision as he suddenly felt a searing pain on his chest, followed by the smell of roasting flesh and burning hair.
He tried to grab at whatever it was that was causing the pain, his fingers touching the pendant that hung there. He pulled his hand away at the intense heat, flapping his fingers in the cold air. The bright light had dissipated enough for him to see that the woman had made it over to the glowing blue doorway between the two trees, one hand resting on the trunk as she tried to recover her resolve.
“Next time we meet, you’re mine,” she hissed before turning to trudge into the blackness.
As soon as night fell she showered and put on her Avenging Angel outfit which consisted of knee high black stiletto boots and a black oriental embroidered tunic that hung to her upper thighs and the front plunged in a V-neck to just below her breast. She tied her hair up in a tight bun and headed out to do the Lord’s work. She parked her Harley Heritage Soft Tail motorcycle in a parking lot a few buildings away from the Mountain View Hotel and walked back to the hotel. As soon as she walked in she noticed every guy that was in the lobby turned their heads towards her and checked her out from head to toe which is what she wanted. A small smile stole across her face as she was use to the male attention her appearance garnered. She ignored them all and headed towards the hotel bar. She sat down and ordered herself a rum and coke and started to look around at the crowd that had gathered there on a Tuesday night.
A couple of minutes later she saw her target in a corner booth having an intimate conversation with her date. She watched them discretely for the next few moments trying to decide the best course of action. Angel decided to move to an empty seat at the bar that was right next to the table that her target was sitting at. She made sure that the gentleman friend that was with her target was checking her out as she sat down on the stool and sipped her rum and coke. She made it a point to glance over at her target and the guy that’s with her every few minutes; and she even buys them both another drink. When they found out that it was Angel who bought them their drinks, they invited her to sit with them. After flirting with him for another few minutes, and finding out that his name is Robbie Fergusson, Angel starts flirting with Kassidi as well.
After flirting with both of them Angel decided to take things up a notch. She stood up, looked at Kassidi, the woman who would soon feel the wrath of her justice, and gave her an ‘I want you’ smile and Kassidi motioned for her to have a seat next to her. So Angel went over and sat next to Kassidi, placing her arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear. She convinced her that they should move this party up to their room for some more drinking and fun. At this point Angel knew she had them right where she wanted them and it was only a matter of time before the target was eliminated. Before she met them at their room she stepped back to bar and bought a bottle of rum and a bottle of coke, knowing that the darkness of the drink would definitely hide the powder if it didn’t quite dissolve all the way. She paid the bar tender, grabbed both bottles and headed up to the third floor. When she got to room three-thirteen, she stood in front of the door chuckled softly to herself and then knocked.
Robbie answered the door with his shirt already unbuttoned and said, “Hello there you sexy thing, come on in we’ve been waiting for you.” The music in the background was low and seductive.
“Well I had to get the good stuff.” She held up the bottles of rum and coke.
Angel walked in and showed Kassidi what she had brought on her way to gather the glasses and ice from the small table in their room. She strategically starts pouring all three drinks with her back to them. Then she glanced over her shoulder and sees that they were distracted by each other so she emptied a vial of white powder into both of their drinks. She stirs it in quietly and then turned to hand each of them a glass. Angel had both of them sit down.
The couple sat on the bed with their drinks and while they drank them, she began to move her body sensuously to music. Kassidi mentioned she was feeling light headed and Angel knew that the drink was doing what it was supposed to do. She wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders and helped her lay down.
“It looks like you have had a little too much rum and coke, my dear, just lay here and relax.”
“But I wanted to have some fun.” Kassidi says in a slightly slurred voice.
Angel strokes her hair, “Don’t worry. There will be plenty of fun to be had.”
Robbie leaned over and said, “I’m not feeling so well.”
“I’m sorry, lover.” She said with a smirk
She touched his shoulder then took a step back and placed a roundhouse kick to his jaw, knocking him out. His limp body fell back against the headboard with a thud. She looked down at him and smiled
“We can’t have you interfering now, can we?”
She looked over at Kassidi as she pulled the black gloves out of her evening bag. She slid them on and reached down, pulling her twelve inch dagger from its sheath inside her right boot.
“Now Kassidi, you have the privilege of being the first victim in a long line of victims as I single handedly kill all of the Moon Changers and end this abomination.”
With that she climbed on to the bed, stripped Kassidi of all her clothes and straddled her naked body. Angel looked down at her victim with disdain and plunged the dagger into Kassidi’s chest, burying the entire blade. Angel then raised her head and hands to praise to her God as blood flowed out of the wound. She patiently carved the words “Moon Changers must die” into the woman’s chest. The blade that it was carved with has silver in the blade so like the one before the wound always turns red as it blistered. She stabbed the dagger back into the hole in Kassidi’s chest. Her hands slid through Kassidi’s blood. she used it to write on the bathroom mirror, “This isn’t the end!” She pulled off the bloody gloves, and washed them and the glasses in the sink. When they were safely stored back in her boot she yanked the drawers out of the nightstand and dumped their bags out onto the floor, throwing clothes everywhere, smashing the rum bottle and glasses to throw off the police. She paused at the door to admire her handiwork and then says to herself. “One final thing”
She pulled the dagger from Kassidi’s body and saw that the message carved into her chest had cauterized at the edges. She wiped her bloody dagger on Kassidi’s shirt and then slid it back into its sheath. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror confirmed that she still looked flawless, but her message had started to drip down the glass. She walked calmly back to her motorcycle, hopped on, and headed home
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Welcome to this edition of Words For Thought , the blog on wordrefiner.com . Like many of the previous blogs we are looking at homophones.
https://www.gofundme.com/teamfistbump Note: All underlined words are links to the sites I am currently discussing. Team Fist Bump (#teamfistbump) is on a mission: These journals are
Periodically, ForeignCorrespondent participates in virtual book tours that allow authors to showcase their books to a broader audience. Today I am hosting fellow RRBC/RWISA author